Scattershots
by Rish Tor
Summary: A collection of short fics to be completed over the summer. Now showing: Lostling. The mind is a fickle thing.
1. Pinpricks

Thousands of pinpricks of lights gleamed and shimmered in the black blanket hanging over the world's head. They flickered and a few of them danced across the sky in random discord, lashes of white across a sea of darkness. Each shone with varying light, but each struggled across space and time to be seen.

Violet eyes peered upwards, crinkled slightly at the slight press of roof tiles against bare shoulders. She wouldn't have known her silent companion was next to her if his cool fingers weren't laced within hers; he radiated no body warmth, he took no breaths and he never once shifted in the natural discomfort of humans.

By all standards, he was dead.

But he wasn't.

He sat quietly at her side, neon green eyes stars in their own right, unable to meet the cold stares of the heavens. Instead, he watched the town below them from their dark perch on City Hall, the stoic protector without a voice to defend himself from vicious hate.

Something curled within her, an instinct that seemed to flare whenever the boy who held her heart even as his refused to beat (but she knew that she held his anyway) and she sat upright, refusing to wince at the tug of flesh against roofing material. Turning her gaze from above, she stared at the boy, internally urging him to speak, to let out whatever had his shoulders slumped.

"Did you know, that every year, nearly a million people kill themselves?" Danny asked softly, legs swinging in discorded rhythm over the edge of the roof. "I guess they just want to find some sort of escape," he added in a mutter before snorting wryly.

A cold weight settled at the back of Sam's spine. Before she could speak, he continued.

"There's only one problem. Being dead is infinitely worse than anything life has to offer. Always dark and cold. Always … infinite and stuck."

There was a cold rage burbling in his tone.

At a loss for words, she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder.

He stiffened in her grasp but didn't move (either closer or further).

A tear trickled down her cheek as she grieved for her broken warrior.

* * *

July 1, 2013

Beginning of Scattershots, my summer challenge of short ficlets.

To keep myself writing, even when it hurts.


	2. Split

Even as Skulker's newly upgraded weapons struck home on his human form, the only thing that registered in Danny's mind was the unique scent of ectoplasm and antiseptic that made up the majority of smells in his parents lab.

He didn't hear the screams of Sam, Jazz and Tucker as they stood, frozen in horror, at the foot of the stairs to the gleaming Fenton Lab, he didn't see his parents rush into the room, weapons at the ready but unable to fire when they realized there baby boy was the target of the ghostly hunter's rage, and he didn't feel the cold wash of the Ghost Portal's ectoplasmic swirl as he was flung, a spinning, ragged and broken doll, into the Ghost Zone.

He just smelled antiseptic and burning ectoplasm.

He hated that smell; it lurked in his nightmares of his flesh being flayed from his bones.

Then he passed out.

.

When he surfaced, he gagged harshly at the sickly scent lingering in his nostrils. Body reacting on instinct, he curled into a ball and rolled to his side, a combination of bile and blood dribbling from his mouth as he coughed and choked. When the shudders finally passed, he spat and hissed at the pain radiating from every pore in his body.

Taking quick stock, he found nothing broken or irreparable in his body, and allowed a small sight to escape.

Wiping a shaking hand across his lips, he took a deep breath and summoned the courage to open his eyes.

He did so slowly, cracking one lid at a time, wincing at the bright light that invaded his senses. For several moments, he was left blinking owlishly as he took in the sight before him.

A sea of green stared back, small squares of purple dotting the non-horizon.

So, Ghost Zone it was.

Grunting, he sat carefully, and looked around. He was seated on a tiny outcropping of floating rock, hovering on the outside of a cluster of similar rocks. With a quick glance around, he spotted a mildly familiar castle of one of the older ghosts and did some quick calculating. (It didn't register that he had shifted from human to ghost while he was out.)

He was pretty sure he could make it back to the Fenton portal after a bit of searching.

He wondered how long he had gone.

Limbs flushed with renewed energy at the prospect of going home, he was able to tamp down on the lingering pain from the ecto blast and he got to his feet. Stumbling as vertigo struck, he pressed a palm to his head and waited it out.

Then he leapt from the cold rock and shot into the air. A small smile crossed his face as he thought of home (pointedly ignoring the problems he would have to deal with too) and urged his body to move faster.

But something pulled his gaze backwards to where he'd come from.

He'd never know what it was.

When he saw the crumpled and broken and bleeding form lying, abandoned on the rock, he shuddered to a halt.

He stared in horrified shock.

The scream of anguish that escaped his lips could be heard in every corner of the ghost zone.

Even the fiercest of the dead cringed.

* * *

July 2, 2013

There will be fluff eventually


	3. Gaudy

"Sam! Sam Sam Sam! Sam!"

The high pitched and accented voice carried across the cafeteria like a thunderclap and the three freshmen at the rear corner table each cringed in their seat. Quick and furtive glances were shared between gazes and the nearest exit. Calculations were rapid fire in every mind, determining the likelihood of escape before the oncoming tsunami.

The prospect was bleak.

Shoulders drooped in disappointed accord.

Sighing, Sam finally looked up to meet the oncoming pink tornado that was Paulina. Only to have a gaudy pink box shoved in her face.

Sputtering, she reared backwards, overwhelmed, as a long-winded explanation rolled over her.

"Hi Sam! So, I, like, wanna ask you a favor and, like, don't ever call me on it, but, like, can you spread these around to your creepy friends, and, like, try to get them to get the word to the rest of the nerds and creeps and whatever, cause like, that would be so cool if everyone had one of these, even if they are losers! Bye!"

And she shot off, with swirls of pink echoing in their vision.

Moments later, after the three friends had finally recovered from their shock, they stared down at the box where it sat in the middle of their table.

Sam approached it as if it were a particularly volatile bomb, just waiting to explode.

Lifting the loose cover with the tip of her fork, she leaned in close, Danny and Tucker's head crowding in close for a clear line of sight, cocking her head in mild disgust when she caught sight of even more pink. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled the cover back fully and peered inside.

The box was full of buttons. Large pink buttons. Pink buttons that read, in bold red letters, _Protect Our Protector! Love Danny Phantom._

Danny instantly started snorting in amusement and leaned back in his seat as his body shook with mirth.

Sam and Tucker looked at each for a long moment. They each reached for a button and pinned it to their chest.

The look alone that crossed Danny's face (confusion, elation, humor, shock and a touch of honor) was worth it for Sam to even consider sporting anything pink.

* * *

July 3, 2013

As promised, fluff.


	4. Interference

Tucker Foley was smarter than your average jock.

In fact, he was smarter than most of the student population at Amity Park's Casper High School.

But he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why his two best friends in the entire world were so stupidly blind to the fact they were madly in love.

Seriously. The entire school could see it. Tucker knew for a fact that some of the teachers even had a side bet going on when the two would finally get their act together.

(That didn't include the bet Tucker himself was holding with some of the more frequent ghostly visitors to Amity Park, Skulker included. He was pretty sure Danny wouldn't approve. Eh, whatever, the chance to make some cash was too tempting to pass up).

Of course, it didn't help that each time Tucker tried to set up an elaborate ploy to finally get the two to realize what they felt for the other, it was crashed by ghosts.

It reached the point that the regulars were even starting to fight off the randoms (ghosts that fell through the portal by accident, not in an attempt to take over the world) in order for the resident hero to go uninterrupted for a day.

(Ember really wanted to win the ghost/Tucker pool. She only had a few days left before the day she chose passed. She was getting more and more pissy each day, to the point where even Skulker couldn't be around her for more than a few hours).

It hadn't worked.

So, several days after Tucker had finally given up trying to help in order to let things play out how they would, the most unexpected thing happened.

"Yo, FenTINA!" Dash yelled across the cafeteria. Tucker would have laughed at the expression of horrified resignation that flicked across Danny's face, if Dash hadn't met Tucker's eyes at that instant. Tucker slouched lower on his bench.

"Yes Dash?" Danny asked, all bored patients.

(Under the table, Sam's warm hand slid into his. No one noticed.)

"You have two options Fenturd. Either you spend the day being my little bitch. Or, you kiss your freaky little girlfriend for everyone to see. Choose," the jock snarled. The strange light in the blonde jock's confused Tucker.

For a long moment, the entirety of the cafeteria was dead silent. Tucker could've sworn not a single person breathed.

Finally, Danny turned from Dash to Sam and stared at her. They had a quick conversation with their eyes.

Tucker found himself holding his breath.

His two friends grinned. He gaped.

They leaned in and kissed deeply, completely oblivious to the wide-eyed stares surrounding them.

Breaking apart, Sam giggled (GIGGLED!) and Danny grinned with a dopey light.

"Ha!" Dash crowed. "Pay up chumps," he growled to the student populace and Tucker's mouth literally dropped when countless kids began grumbling and shifting through their pockets for change.

"Hey Tuck," Danny called, waving a hand in front of Tucker's still shell shocked face. "Pretty sure you just won the ghost pool. Good luck getting Skulker to pay up though."

And with that, Sam and Danny went back to eating their lunch, shoulders significantly closer than they had been at the beginning of lunch hour.

* * *

July 5, 2013

More fluff :)


	5. Glade

I sit silently in the middle of the glade.

What a funny word, glade. Who came up with it? It's just a clearing in the forest. Glade invokes pictures of prancing deer and unicorns and pink shit.

Glade is such a stupid fucking word.

Resting my head on my drawn up knees, I stare across the _clearing._

I am waiting.

I have been waiting for about an hour now.

(At least there aren't any prancing deer. Don't think I could have handled that. Too goddamn ridiculous).

The sun is slowly approaching the cradle of the horizon and I begin to worry he won't show.

It's a standing date between us, once every year. With me off to university and him stuck, too much time is spent with us on opposite ends of the spectrum. We try our best. But he's never been this late before and it's sending chills down my spine.

Something snaps in the darkness of the woods across from me and my gaze zeros in.

I wait.

Two gleaming emerald eyes appear and he slowly steps from the covering of trees. He is weary, I can see it in his gait, and his handsome face is covered in nicks and cuts. He's been in a fight recently.

"Hey Danny," I call softly, relaxing at the sight of him whole.

He chuffs once and steps clear of the forest, strong body shinning in the setting sun. I smile at the black wolf as he walks toward me.

I reach out and run a gentle hand across his muzzle, fighting the tears when he closes his eyes and leans in close.

"So," I begin, chuckling softly when he flops onto the ground next to me with dramatic flare. "Good news. Tucker's finally got a lead on Freakshow. The Fentons are already on their way to check it out," I tell the black wolf. He lifts his head slightly and opens one emerald orb to stare at me.

All the hope I've been holding onto fades and I sigh. His look says _Move on Sam. There's nothing to be done for me._

"Shut up," I tell him, faking cheerfulness, leaning over to kiss his ear.

I know he feels my hand clutch at his fur, but he doesn't react. I don't expect him too.

* * *

July 7, 2013

Don't know where this came from.


	6. Duck and Cover

From a casual observer, in any offhand glance or encounter, anyone could see the primitive anger that burned in Dash Baxter's eyes. The rage of a stupid beast gleamed there, the intent only on revenge for the wrongs that had so undoubtedly been thrust upon him. Everyone but the self proclaimed top of the school, the popular ones, fled from the light in his eyes.

They knew better than to poke an angry bear.

What they didn't know was the cause.

(Another failing grade meant a months worth of detention with Lancer, Fenturd had been ducking him for days which meant he'd only had the meek nerds to pound out his anger through, this morning had found him with a powerful and mind crushing headache and to top it all, his mother, his beautiful mother had been admitted that morning. The final legs and claws of stage four breast cancer were upon Alice Baxter. And there wasn't a damn thing her only child could do but provide more and more disappointment in her final days).

But they did know that a storm was coming.

Duck and cover.

They only expected Danny Fenton to be the prime target of his brutality in a dirty and quick pummeling in order to alleviate the pressure building behind his eyes.

They weren't wrong.

Spotting the raven head down the hall, Dash lowered his head and approached, much like an angry bull would do. But he didn't charge, no, that would cause too much warning. Despite his outward appearance of a stupid jock, Dash sometimes did know where the line was.

So he strode, taking small pleasure when students cowered out of his way, towards Fentina and his two loser friends, fists already thrumming with joy at the thought of smashing into Fenton's face.

Then Danny turned away from that freaky goth chic and Dash got a full view of his face.

It stopped him cold.

In all his years (all the humiliations he had dolled out, all the pain and tears and broken sobs he'd heard), he had never seen such an expression.

Fenton's skin wasn't dead white like one would expect; no it was a pasty grey. A sickly grey, with dark and gaping circles beneath his eyes.

Had Dash had any medical knowledge, he likely would've sent Danny home, or to the hospital. As it was, he could only stare and wonder how in the hell the nerd was even on his feet.

(Danny looked worse than Alice Baxter. He looked like death).

Fenton's sapphire eyes gleamed with a mad light. Something haunted lurked within.

Instinct told Dash to back away.

He was surprised at himself when he did.

He would find someone else to beat on today.

* * *

July 8, 2013

These are all unbeta'ed. If you see problems, it would be wonderful if you mentioned them.


	7. Covered

He screamed until his throat bled.

He screamed until his ears rang.

And he continued screaming, even after he was finally released. But only in his head, only ever in his head, because he couldn't let them see how they had destroyed him.

Round and round and round and round and round he spun, again and again and again, shrieking and crying and begging for freedom.

No one could hear him, but the blackness and micro container were driving him mad and the fear clawing at his heart was worming deeper and deeper, the seeds of doubt.

Why wasn't he free? Why had they left him in here? Why was he still stuck in the black?

Why? Why? Why? Why!?

He sobbed brokenly as his no substantial form circled endlessly the container in which he was trapped. Doubts roared freely.

They had left him. Finally, trapped him like the dead boy he was. He was worthless. Worthless. They hated him. Hated him so much they left him stuck in this godforsaken thermos.

(There is no sensation of time here).

Suddenly, there is light. His heart soars even as his head warns him. Be cautious.

But he can't, because freedom is a taste away and the blackness has taken too deep a root that he wants _out!_

He is dumped unceremoniously on his bedroom floor, with the smirking faces of his (lying, hateful, murdering) friends above him. Tucker is barely holding back laughter.

Danny's skin crawls.

Something heavy thumps against his chest, enough for force the startled change back to human. He instantly feels solider. And following that, the sparking and crackling emotions that come with being human strike home.

He has to fight to hold back the sob.

"Time for school," Sam tells him softly, but there is mirth in her eyes and it hurts more than any blow. "Bet you had a nice nap in there," she adds and Tucker snorts. They both turn and head out his doorway.

He doesn't correct them.

He isn't strong enough to correct them.

* * *

July 9, 2013

Completes the Duck and Cover arc. What happened before D and C.


	8. Heat

At first, no one noticed anything was wrong.

It was your run of the mill, mid-May school day, where the windows were thrown wide in hope of catching an errant breeze and students were as lethargic as sloths as they sweated their way from one class to the next. The air nearly shimmered in the thrumming heat, teachers and students alike cursing the sun as it blazed above them.

Casper High trapped the heat like an oven. And then amplified it.

Mr. Lancer, one of the most notorious teachers in the school for handing out detentions for even the most miniscule of rule breaking, couldn't even drum up the energy or willpower to yell at the handful of sleeping students studding his classroom.

Instead, he focused blearily on the text in his hand and continued to drone on about the importance of symbolism, while sweat dripped into his eyes and his students drifted further and further into vegetative states.

After a handful of minutes, the temperature of the room began to drop, shifting enough that those who did register it, blamed it on the wind.

But still, no one took real notice.

It was only when cool blasts of air rolled through the room, snapping several drifting students into alertness, that they began to grin and shuffle into attention, thinking the school's air conditioning had kicked in.

Casper High's AC hadn't worked for several years, this Lancer knew, but he was too relived upon seeing the change in his pupils that he thought nothing of it.

Then teenagers started to shiver. Their breath fogged the air. Frost began to form on the windows.

Lancer halted his lecture and stared around the room.

The heat that had been frying their minds only moments before was now a glorious dream. By now, nearly all of the students who had been asleep were awake thanks to the cold snap; all but Daniel Fenton and, oddly, Dash Baxter.

As Lancer watched, Daniel suddenly shot awake when his goth friend stabbed hard with a pencil, and nearly flinched when the boys sapphire eyes seemed to flare with dangerous energy. The teacher held his breath and fought against a shiver.

Then the boy blinked and the oddness of his gaze vanished. The girl leaned over and began whispering in Daniel's ear and, fascinated, Lancer watched the sheepish expression cross the young man's face.

After that, the temperature rose to a balmy, if much cooler than the rest of the school, state and Lancer resumed his lesson. But he couldn't shake the idea that he was missing something.

* * *

July 11, 2013

I wish this had happened at work today


	9. Lostling

His head was pounding.

It felt like there was a drummer inside his skull, just behind his eyes, going to town on all the different parts of his brain. All at once.

Instantly, he wished he could escape back into that beautiful black void of silence called unconsciousness.

No such luck arose when he tried to curl in on himself. The pain doubled when he shifted and he nearly let out a cry. Instead, he bit his lip and curled in on himself protectively, even as lightning and thunder stabbed through his skull.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of exclamations of surprise and quick conversation around him. But he couldn't seem to focus, and could only lay still as he fought to orient himself.

After what seemed like days, the pounding at his temples began to fade and he slowly relaxed his huddled position.

For the life (ha) of him, he couldn't recall what had happened. His mind was a complete blank. The last thing that he could remember was walking home from the Nasty Burger with Sam and Tucker. There was a shadow in his memory when they had passed an alleyway and then… nothing.

Breathing deep, Danny slowly fought his way into a sitting position, wincing as he did.

Then he blinked open his eyes.

At first, the scene before him simply didn't register.

Then he screamed.

In the blood that coated the walls and floors, the sprays and spurts a grotesque painting, he could see his own reflection. He could see his eyes gleaming a muddy red-green. And he could see the blood dripping from his body.

At his feet lay the bodies.

Here, one wearing brilliant orange. There, a blue jump-suited figure clasping hands even in death with a girl with a shock of orange hair. A red beret lay abandoned in the center of his kitchen, its owner in pieces beneath the table.

And directly across his legs, purple and black she sprawled, violet eyes staring at him accusingly even while filmed over with death.

That's when his stomach emptied.

Seconds later, a figure appeared before him, ensconced in pale red light, and holding a pendant beneath their outstretched fingers. They laughed, a deep rumbling of broken gravel.

"Come," it spoke, a deep hissing croak. The male, hidden behind the haze, reveled in the destruction the freak had caused. He fed on the lingering emotions, a heady mixture of terror and pain and rage, and felt his power swell.

That's when Danny forget everything and obeyed.

* * *

July 13, 2013

No sweet clue where this came from


End file.
